


say its name

by Digitalis_Obscura



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Jon blames himself for the apocalypse, Michael is weirdly comforting, Post-MAG 160
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-17 23:09:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21651286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Digitalis_Obscura/pseuds/Digitalis_Obscura
Summary: He’s been driving too long by himself when he finally pulls off, colors dancing in his peripheral from too many days without sleep, hands shaking from caffeine and stress.orGuilt is a strange thing, and Michael remembers what manipulation feels like.
Relationships: Michael & Jonathan Sims
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39
Collections: Rusty Quill Secret Santa 2019





	say its name

**Author's Note:**

  * For [olio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/olio/gifts).



He’s been driving too long by himself when he finally pulls off, colors dancing in his peripheral from too many days without sleep, hands shaking from caffeine and stress. 

It’s been two months since the world ended and Jon has given everything and more trying to fix it and he’s gotten nowhere. The world is still fucked, and he isn’t sure how much more he can do. Not that he’s going to stop trying, but he’s tired and everything hurts and nothing makes any difference. 

His knuckles are white from how hard he’s clenching his fists, and they ache when he releases his death grip on the wheel in front of him. He watches with worn out detachment as the ever-present tremors start again. He doesn’t have the energy to be startled when the car door opens.

“What are you doing out here, Archivist?” Jon flinches, he can’t help it. He hates that word, hates the way Basira spits it at him like a curse when she’s angry, hates how it still feels like it’s his. He doesn’t answer the question, doesn’t ask Michael why they’re here, in the middle of nowhere, and not dead. He doesn’t look away from his hands where they shake against his knees.

“Oh, Archivist. You feel guilty! You think this is your fault?”

“Of course it’s my fault! I did this, I did everything exactly like he planned, I played right into his hands! He needed a pawn and I was all too happy to be moved!” He’s yelling and it hurts, voice rough with disuse, and the tremor is gone from his hands where they clench in the fabric of his trousers. It’s like the words have been building on his tongue and now he can’t stop them from spilling out like blood from a wound.

“I didn’t even realize I was being played. Everything I did, right from the beginning, was another move in the fucked up game he’s been playing and I was too stupid to see it. Tim died because Eli- Jonah- was pulling my strings. Daisy suffered for months, Martin almost-“ He cuts off with a gasp and realizes that he’s crying, and Michael’s hand is on his shoulder, almost comforting in some strange way, and Jon finds himself leaning into it. 

Michael’s tone is odd, when they finally speak, hand not leaving Jon’s shoulder, blurring at the edges. “What happened is not your fault. You fought for your humanity, as Michael Shelley once did, and you lost, much the same as he did. It was not his fault, and it is not yours, Jon” 

The hand leaves Jon’s shoulder and by the time he looks up, they’re gone, leaving an open car door behind them. He leans over the seat and slams it shut, before putting the car back in gear. His hands don’t shake.


End file.
